Several weeks ago: After days of wind the upper prayer flags are gone. A short length of braided cotton tied around a slender branch is all that remains. The prayer flags...
I go out of the house into the black citadel of night. There is a sliver of moon, a dense crusting of stars, and it is very cold, about fifteen degrees. My eyes have not yet adjusted...
On a recent Sunday morning I climb the tree, glorious and full of light. The glory and the light are the tree’s, of course—but it lends them me, briefly. Sometimes...
Every year I am surprised all over again by the transition from the enclosed intimacy of a tree mantled in foliage to a nest of branches exuberantly open to wind, landscape,...
One night I climb the tree late. I am just home from chorus rehearsal in Bridgewater. It is a clear night with just the memory of light clinging to the horizon: a dark...
I am sitting on a couch in the Green Mountain Rock Climbing Center on a Wednesday afternoon, watching Emme and her friends scale the walls, when it suddenly hits me that the day before,...
It is Labor Day weekend. The nights have been cold, in the high 40s, and a steady rain on Sunday, but Saturday and Monday are sunny and dry. The air is no longer summer air....
Some landscapes speak to you. Outside of the mountains and woods of New England, foremost among these for me have been the Annapurna mountain range in Nepal and the islands...
The Stone of the Apostles, carved in the eighth or ninth century, on display in the beautiful Dunkeld Cathedral, situated on the banks of the River Tay and dating to 1260....
Among the trees in one of the most beautiful places I’ve been, a beechwood above the ocean on the Applecross peninsula after crossing the Cattle Drover’s Pass...
Nary a tree in sight but stunningly beautiful. Hiking among thistles, sheep grazing everywhere, and rabbits bounding up the slopes around us. Just the bones of the earth,...
A magnificent knotted tree, who knows how many hundreds of years old, in the churchyard of Beauly’s ruined priory from the 1200s. A handful of immaculate crow feathers...
Glorious concatenations of wood, water and stone! Neolithic standing stones at Kilmartin Glen; Loch Melfort; and a tree at the entrance to Arduaine Gardens, all in Argyll.
What a welcoming tree! I’ve never seen so many trees full of character as I have in two days of driving through Scotland. Huge and craggy or slender and elegant, weather-beaten...
In a several hours of walking up this valley we see only one tree, except for two or three others not much larger than shrubs. It leans over the river we walk along and it is caked...
In half an hour we are leaving for Boston for our flight to Scotland. I do the day’s climb in the company of Emme and Claire. We bring up a container of gooseberries...
It is nearly 2 am. The hills are awash with the darkest, most ethereal light imaginable. We drove down to Lenox, MA, this afternoon to see a production of Cymbeline at Shakespeare...
It is one of those perfect summer mornings—the air cool and brimming with sunlight—and the tree is full of song. Last night we went to a Village Harmony concert in Norwich...
Saturday, July 1: The ground was already saturated when the rains started this morning. And by afternoon it had become torrential, sheets of rain battering houses, trees,...
Claire, Emme and I have a free afternoon. Months ago, contemplating the distant prospect of summer, Emme proposed that in occasional spare chunks of time we go on excursions...
Tree and meadow are inseparable for me. Yes, lawn and driveway lie between, at least when looking out at the opposite hills. I don’t walk through the meadow to get to the tree....
I often catch myself thinking of the tree as having a front and a back. It stands at the edge of the woods, and the side of the tree that faces outwards, across the lawn...
Today I cool off in the tree after finishing a trail maintenance hike. I am dropped off in the early morning, make the long wandering climb up to Whitcomb Hill, continue...
The other day I was remembering the trees I climbed when I was young. In front of our house, in the expanse of lawn enclosed by a semi-circular driveway, was a maple tree...
[View with images] As of today, I have been in the tree every day for two years (with the exception of one day that first July, when I forgot, and of course the handful...
I climb the tree in the dark in a cold drizzle late in the evening after returning from Bagua. The branches are covered in a slick organic film and I go carefully, slowly....